


Corona Borealis

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Courting Rituals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 04:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18804106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: "I’m going to go meet the men who have come here because they want to get to know me. I don’t want to do it with you glaring at them anymore.”“I’m not glaring at them!” Michael protests. Alex gives him a withering look. Right. Shit. No lies. “They aren’t good enough for you,” he says finally.Alex shakes his head.“That isn’t for you to decide.”





	Corona Borealis

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I need a fic where Alex is like catnip for queer male aliens. After they find more aliens they all vying for his attention showing him their ‘gift’ and Michael is all like ‘yeah levitate the fuck out of here asshole’

“I have come to court the fair Captain Alex Manes,” the alien announces, “I was blessed with the gift to make fire and I offer it to the Captain, to use as he will.”

Alex looks stunned.

Michael looks between the both of them so quickly he thinks he may strain his neck. Alex looks stunned but not offended or upset or any of the things Michael is hoping he would. The alien recognizes and seizes this opportunity. The plume of fire he creates is blue and orange and gold. It flares up, folds down on itself and then rises in the shape of two birds that soar around the room before flying in a heart in front of Alex and exploding into more rainbow tinted fire.

“That was amazing,” Alex says, “what did you say your name was?”

“I am Arun of Antar,” he says.

“You’re very talented,” Alex compliments.

“You flatter me,” Arun says.

Michael decides Arun better start thinking of other planets to be ‘of’ because he’s going to kick him off this one.

* * *

“Did you see that?” Alex says excitedly, “Darany is so talented.”

“Darany is a dick,” Michael says, “what good is making sparkles?”

“I think it’s cool,” Alex says with a shrug.

Michael feels sick. When the three of them decided to bring ‘Team Alien’ to Antar, they knew they were going to get a heroes welcome. And it was great to see their friends be lauded for everything. It wasn’t like they were going to get the credit they deserved on earth. Antar is a culture of warriors. Battlefield warriors. Which means that Alex, the one of them with any battlefield experience, is suddenly surrounded by more admirers than he knows what to do with. A female Antarian works up the courage to ask to court him. She is so nervous and looks so crestfallen that Alex, being Alex, tells her that if he was attracted to women she would be top of the list and inadvertently outs himself in the process.

And that is when the men start arriving.

Alex tries not to look flattered by the attention which only makes him more attractive somehow. He also tries to not look interested but Michael can see how he shifts depending on the guy. He stops trying to hide his prosthetic after he realizes the society treats him like a warrior who has done something honorable instead of a burden. Seeing the change in Alex, Michael is happy. Happy for his friend. Alex deserves to be happy with whoever he wants. Michael repeats it over and over again, but if Alex falls in love with a different Antarian and stays on Antar then Michael thinks he might die.

“I am Nimith,” the latest man says and Michael swears silently because this guy looks like he walked off of the cover of Rolling Stone, “I make music.”

Oh _hell_ no.

“You do?” Alex sits up, genuinely interested and Nimith’s hot guy persona cracks into something equally interested in Alex the man, “what do you play?”

“I am master of the Antarian Lyre,” he says, “may I play for you?”

Alex nods and leans forward as Nimith produces a stringed instrument and starts to play. He’s good. Fuck him he’s really good. Alex’s gaze softens and it’s a knife to Michael’s gut. This guy looks like a rock star and plays his instrument and Alex’s fingers tap to the beat of what he’s playing. Michael’s stomach drops with dread. Nimith strums out some phenomenal solo something that makes his fingers dance and all Michael can see is those fingers working Alex. Alex is thinking the same thing too, if the color on his cheeks is any indication. This asshole is making Alex blush. Michael watches as he finishes and Alex applauds—which isn’t new—and gets to his feet—which is—and comes over to him.

“I don’t know anything about Antarian music,” he says.

“May I teach you?” Nimith offers.

“I’d like that,” Alex says.

Nimith extends a hand and Alex leaves with him.

Michael goes back to his room, screams into a pillow and has a new appreciation for the years Alex spent watching him sleep his way through Roswell. The music is just salt in the wound, but if he thinks about it it’s more deserved than he wants to admit.

* * *

“So are you done with suitor hour now that you’re making music with Nimith?” Michael asks.

“Am I what?” Alex repeats with a laugh, “what are you talking about?”

“Suitor hour, where all the available guys on Antar come and introduce themselves and show how big their ‘abilities’ are,” he says, “you gonna stop that now that you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“That is not what’s happening,” Alex says, his face red, “and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Michael shouldn’t be nearly as relieved to hear that as he is. Alex picks at the bowl of noodles, his eyebrows drawn together and Michael’s relief turns to nausea as Alex does that deep breath thing he does when he’s about to say something he doesn’t want to. He focuses his gaze on Michael and Michael desperately wishes that he could look away.

“Do you have a problem with it?”

“What? No!” Michael lies, “of course not. We agreed things didn’t work between us, I want you to be happy.”

“So if I stayed on Antar and was with one of them, it wouldn’t bother you?”

“No,” he says, “I’d be happy for you. You should stay for someone you love,” he continues, “I can’t think of a better reason.”

Alex gives him a look that turns the nausea into a literal ache. He stands up. They said no more walking away. They promised each other. He opens his mouth to remind Alex, to say something that will make him come back so they can go back to how things were five minutes ago. Alex looks at him cooly and Michael wants to yell.

“We said no more walking away,” he says.

“We also said no more lying,” Alex replies, “I have to go get ready for my ‘Suitor Hour’” he says. Michael looks away, “don’t bother coming to babysit.”

“What? That’s not what I’m doing,” he protests, getting to his feet.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Alex tells him, finally looking at him again, “but I’m going to go meet the men who have come here because they want to get to know me. I don’t want to do it with you glaring at them anymore.”

“I’m not glaring at them!” Michael protests. Alex gives him a withering look. Right. Shit. No lies. “They aren’t good enough for you,” he says finally.

Alex shakes his head.

“That isn’t for you to decide.”

Michael knows that people said the same thing about him. And God, they were right weren’t they? He isn’t good enough for someone as incredible as Alex. He never will be. Everyone knew it, even Alex eventually figured it out. He feels sick as he looks at him. He’s jealous of everything that runs through his head as Alex folds his napkin, nods at the staff and walks away. Because he won’t keep all the men who are here to recognize how good he is waiting. Because in addition to being possibly the best person Michael has ever met, Alex is also punctual.

Fuck, no wonder he’s still in love with him.

* * *

“Would you like refreshments brought to the chamber?” One of the servants asks, “since you and Captain Manes didn’t finish?”

He looks at her blankly.

“He just banned me,” he says.

“But, sir,” she says, “this is your palace. Technically, he can’t ban you from anything.”

* * *

Michael doesn’t wear authority particularly well.

On Antar this is thrown into sharp relief when he keeps forgetting that he’s technically second in command of an entire fucking planet. He remembers thumbing through one of those tabloids Isobel used to get and reading about how the new royals kept scandalizing everyone by opening their own doors and shit. It’s not until he sees his face on the Altar equivalent because he held open the door for someone who was technically a servant that he understands. He does a better job after that at least attempting to follow protocol.

But he does keep forgetting just how much power he has now. He ignores it a lot of the time. Even when the guys come to court Alex, they always look at him. He glares because he hates them, but he never outright stops it. Because he’s a jerk in a lot of ways but even he’s not that much of a dick. He can’t use his authority against Alex. Or Alex’s endless stream of suitors. Alex kicks him out of Suitor Hour and he forces himself to respect that. It’s Alex. Alex doesn’t love him like that and he has to keep reminding himself of it. Alex gets to be happy.

Alex doesn’t speak to him but Suitor Hour stops happening as frequently. Which Michael is initially relieved about but then bolts up one night overcome with the terror that Alex has stopped it because he’s found someone. It’s a palace, his palace, and it doesn’t take much for him to find out the last name on the list is Rith. Rith is in the army Michael technically commands and is gifted with the power of air manipulation. He could be his evil twin. So Michael does the thing he’s been avoiding and visits his army, incognito. He has Rith’s training interrupted and the man brought to him.

“General Rath, Sir!”

Seeing his evil twin/Alex’s boyfriend flatten himself in a deep bow is going in his head under those truly great moments in his life. Like the time he rolled Max’s first jeep. Rith stands when he motions for him to and goes into a formal military posture as Michael tries to see why he’s so much better. They barely look alike aside from curly hair and their general build. Rith’s eyes are blue. Maybe Alex has a thing for blue eyes. After a moment of being inspected, Rith glances at him.

“Sir?”

“I’m in charge of this whole place,” Michael says, trying to sound stern but winding up just sounding like Max, “I could ruin everything for you.”

“Sir, I know, Sir,” Rith says.

  
“So if Alex isn’t the picture of happiness, if I hear one breath that you’re not treating him right, I will ruin you,” he says.

  
“Sir?”

“What about that is confusing?” He demands.

“Nothing, Sir, if I was with Captain Manes I would do anything to make him happy. But—“ Michael glares, “sir, Captain Manes and I are not together. He thanked me for coming but said he couldn’t be with me. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Did he say why not?” Michael asks before he can stop himself.

  
“No, sir,” Rith says, “it’s what he’s said to everyone.”

Michael nods. Rith hesitates for a moment. Michael waves his formality off, signaling that he can speak. Rith still looks nervous as hell which is fair. Michael’s not great at authority and this puts him squarely in the ‘Max Zone’ of using it poorly. Not exactly a place he ever wanted to be. Rith seems like an okay dude so maybe he’s the evil twin in all of this.

“Sir, Captain Manes is waiting for you.”

“Where?” Michael asks, looking around. If Alex sees him he really is never going to speak to him.

“Not here, sir, I meant in general. Captain Manes always speaks highly of you,” he says, “actually, he only speaks of you. And if I may, sir, everyone else has noticed how you look when Captain Manes shows interest. Everyone except Captain Manes.”

“Well I sit behind him so—“ Michael winces. Rith clears his throat instead of smiling, “what’s your point? Alex and I agreed to be friends.”

“On earth, sir,” Rith says, “you aren’t on earth anymore. Do you have such an agreement on Antar?”

Michael makes a note to promote him.

* * *

“Okay I’m here,” Alex says, “what’s this about?”

His voice is tight with frustration. But he doesn’t scoff or do any of the things he usually does when he’s frustrated with him. Actually Michael hears his feet stop mid step and pause completely. He knows the look on Alex’s face without turning around. He doesn’t blame his confusion, God knows he feels completely ridiculous. He never played dress up as a kid and until very recently, all of his clothing was multipurpose. The most formal thing he owned was a black suit that was a rental he never returned. He rarely felt comfortable in his own skin, let alone dressing it up.

As it turns out, Antarian Ceremonial Amor makes earth dressing up feel like a joke.

It’s heavy and guided and Michael thought it was stupid to have actual armor and ceremonial armor but now he sees the distinction. His only available combat move is to roll into a ball and hope he hits what he’s aiming at. Don’t get him wrong, the thing is a work of art. Thousands of metal plates overlap each other, each placed so artfully that all together the design they create is visible from every angle. It’s a silvery color but it’s made of an Antar alloy. His skin is saved by what he privately thinks is the nicest onesie in existence, but what he has been informed is the proper undergarment. Draped along his back is the cloak that bears Max’s sigil and his own, showing the unity of their two houses.

He looks good.

That doesn’t mean he’s not nervous as fuck when he turns around. Alex’s jaw drops and if Michael was comparing himself to any of the other suitors, he would say that gives him almost as wide a lead as Nimith. Alex’s eyes drag over his body and if he didn’t have heavy ass armor on, he’d feel like he was being undressed. They settle on his face and Alex’s jaw closes and clenches. Michael knows he’s still in trouble. That’s okay, he’s good at being in trouble. Especially when he’s dressed up like a fucking storybook character.

“What is this about?” Alex repeats.

“I’m here to announce my intention to court you,” he says.

“No.”

Flat out refusal is something no-one else has gotten. Alex at least humors them. Alex doesn’t look amused and he doesn’t look like he’s going to give him the chance. Michael glares.

“What do you mean no? Why not?” Alex scowls, “you said yes to Prak. Prak had no gift and wrote you a bad poem!”

“Prak was nice.”

“Prak was almost as useless as Borey. He did origami for an uncomfortably long time.”

“That city was impressive.”

“Why are they allowed to court you and I’m not?!” He demands, “why do they get to try to make you fall for them and I can’t?”

“Because I’m already in love with you!”

It’s not the answer he was expecting.

Alex makes a noise and turns around as Michael stares at him in confusion. They’ve established the love each other, but they aren’t in love. Except apparently they were both lying about that. Michael toys with the edge of his cloak as Alex takes a deep breath before turning around to face him. He’s trying for calm and collected but Michael can see the turmoil in him. Alex doesn’t want to have this conversation, but maybe Alex does want to be with him. Michael isn’t sure which emotion to choke on.

“You’re in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you,” Alex says.

“But why—“ Michael frowns, “all those guys—“

“We agreed we didn’t work,” Alex says, “and I like meeting new people,” Michael frowns, sensing this isn’t the whole story, “and I knew you would be there.”

“The dude parade was an excuse to spend time with me?” He blurts out.

Alex looks away and gives the smallest nod.

“We didn’t work on earth,” Michael says abruptly, remembering the crux of his speak to convince Alex to let him take him out, “we’re not on earth.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Alex says.

“Okay,” Michael looks down and then looks at him, “then let me court you because I love you.”

Alex stares at him. Michael knows he’s been hopeless in the actually saying how he feels department. Even now it’s been that he feels the same, it’s always Alex who says the words. Names the emotions. But Michael has never been more sure of anything in his life. He steps forward, determination in everything he is.

“Let me court you, because I was trying to let you be happy but I felt sick every time you liked a guy. I’m in charge of a lot here,” he says, “I could have sent them all away,” Alex glares, “but let court you because you never cared that I didn’t have any of this. Let me court you because I’ve loved you on two planets and could love you anywhere. Let me give you every reason to stay here.”

Alex stares at him, wide eyed and parted lips. They’ve moved closer throughout the conversation to the dais where they sat and Michael gently pushes Alex onto his chair. Moving fast in ceremonial armor is not easy but he makes it to the entrance in record time and approaches the chair and the stunned Alex all over again. He ignores any nerves as he does the best bow he can manage, following every one of those stupid ass Antarian court rules that he’s been drilling.

“I am Michael of the Airstream, alternately known as Rath of Antar. I am blessed with the ability to move things with my mind, play the guitar, hold my own in a bar fight and I can make a truly life changing quesadilla,” he says, “I offer it to Alex, to use as he will. For as long as he wants.”

Alex closes his eyes and dips his head. When he looks up, Michael feels his heart explode with hope. Alex gets up and starts towards him.

“Can I court you?” He asks again.

“No,” Alex says. Michael frowns. Alex smiles, “courting comes before being in a relationship. There’s no touching involved.”

“Oh, shit,” Michael vaguely remembers hearing that somewhere, “we should skip that. If I can ever get out of this stuff—“

Alex kisses him, catching him off guard but it only takes a moment for him to catch up. The entire time he’s been in his palace, he’s felt like an imposter. It’s truly mind boggling how all it takes is Alex kissing him to make him feel like he’s home. It doesn’t matter that he could fit about a billion airstreams in the palace. Alex kisses him and he’s back in the airstream, almost bumping into all four walls. This, he thinks dimly, must be what people mean when they say home is a person. He can barely feel Alex through the armor but at the moment it’s worth it just to stand there and know that Alex has heard him say he loves him. That it got him another chance he has no intention of wasting. Michael opens his eyes and looks up at Alex who finally looks happy. Happier than Michael has seen him in far too long.

“So you know more about Antar courting rituals than I do,” he says breathlessly.

“I can also play the Lyre,” Alex tells him, equally breathless.

“Hot. How much touching are we allowed?” Alex kisses him again in response, “how are you with taking off armor? Think you can figure it out?”

Alex drops his cloak in response.

Michael barely remembers to lock the chamber.


End file.
